Can This Be Justified?
by o0kaymawn0o
Summary: Dean and Sam are lawyers working for different companies. They meet at a trial, Matt Augustine against Kalu Pharmacy, where they go head to head, battling for the win. Dean wins, through means of his own, but sees potential for Sam as a lawyer and a friend. Things later develop as they hang out more, and Sam eventually joins Dean's law firm, Top!Dean; full summary inside.
1. A Meeting of Two Lawyers

_Can This Be Justified?_

o0kaymawn0o

* * *

**Summary:**

**Dean and Sam are lawyers working for different companies. They meet at a trial, Matt Augustine against Kalu Pharmacy, where they go head to head, battling for the win. Dean wins, through means of his own, but sees potential for Sam as a lawyer and a friend. Things later develop as they hang out more, and Sam eventually joins Dean's law firm, where they exist as partners for tough cases. For one of them, however, things start to burn brighter than it should and feelings develop past the barrier of normal. How will they deal with these new blossoming feelings? Unrelated Wincest. Top!Dean! Bottom!Sam!**

* * *

_Notes:_

_If you don't like Top!Dean!, this story probably isn't for you... So, yeah, just putting that out there. For those of you who do, great! Just, if you like both, please don't ask me to switch it up. DS is my preference. :)_

* * *

**_A Meeting of Two Lawyers:_**

"You ready for this, Dean?" Bobby singer questioned, stood outside the huge doors of the courtroom with his greatest employee, Dean Winchester. The man in question smirked smugly and straightened his tie with one hand, keeping hold of his briefcase in the other.

"Bobby, I was born ready," he accentuated the point with a confident push to the wooden doors, briskly walking down the aisle, checking out the audience that will witness his victory at the end of this trial, while making a few notes in his head to talk to some good looking vessels afterwards. Dean cast his eyes to the judge and winked. "Looking lovely as ever today, your honour." The judge gave him a stone cold look and pointed towards his chair, telling him that flattery would not help him win this case.

Curious to see who he would be up against, Dean glanced over at the defendants table and noticed a tall man with brown hair going over his notes, a black briefcase similar to his laid out on the table. Dean had to admit that the guy seemed like he meant business. That wasn't going to throw him off. Not now, and not ever.

_Sorry, pal, prosecution is going to win this one hands down._

The man must have noticed he was staring at him, as he looked over and frowned, his puppy-dog eyes assessing the enthusiastic looking blond. Without an inkling what the guy was thinking, he drew his eyes back to his papers and got busy. Dean didn't like that he looked him over to easily, and had no look of apprehension afterwards. He must know who Dean Winchester is, right? Surely he does, as he's famous for how he acts in the courtroom. His methods are just a little out of the ordinary, one might say.

"I now call this court to order, for the trial of Matt Augustine against _Kalu Pharmacy. _Prosecutor, please make your opening statement."

"Thank you, your honour," Dean said as he rose from his seat, turning towards the jury. "As you might have heard, _Kalu Pharmacy _has been accused of false advertisement of their latest brand of skincare ointment, regularly used by pre-pubescent teens that refuse to just let nature run its course. I, for one, never had this problem. But, I'm here to prove that this gross act of negligence is not due to the pharmacy itself, but rather Mr. Augustine's blatant disregard for the warnings displayed clearly on the box." He winked at a nice lady near the back before retaking his seat and peering over at the defence attorney.

Clearing his throat, the Sasquatch did the same as Dean did and turned to the back. "Mr. Augustine is not in the wrong here. He is a brave man, in fact. How many teenagers, just young adults would actually get up and fight for themselves against a pharmacy that has caused countless problems for men and women their own age? Mr. Augustine isn't fighting for just himself. He's fighting for everyone that has ever picked up this particular brand, used it, and suffered for it. It's promised on the box to relieve the user of spots from up to ten days. After the ten day period was up, Mr. Augustine looked in the mirror and couldn't recognise the person he saw, all because of _Kalu Pharmacy's _reckless attention to side-effects on their advertising."

_Not bad, Sasquatch. Not bad at all._

"Thank you. Prosecution, call your first witness."

"Yes, I'd like to call Jenny Williams to the stand, please," a petit brunette took the stand at the front, and went through the oath that dictates she will not tell a lie. Dean approached the bench and leaned over the top half. "Hi, Jenny. Just to start, have you used _Kalu Pharmacy's _brand before?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic. Did you suffer any of the side effects that the gentlemen at the front has?" Jenny stared at Matt Augustine and her lips quivered. Matt was not in a great state, as it was. He had inflammation through most of his face, and several areas were swollen.

"No, I didn't."

"Did you read all the warnings before you used it?"

"Yes, of course."

"So, would you say that Mr. Augustine was trying to cover up that he didn't, in fact, read the warnings-"

"Objection, your honour!" the defence raged, obviously displeased with that last remark.

"I withdraw the question." Dean sent a look in the man's direction as he claimed he had nothing further for now and resumed his seat. The judge motioned for defence to do their questioning, and the brunet started his rounds.

"Have you used any of _Kalu Pharmacy's _other brands, Miss Williams?" he asked politely, offering a small smile of reassurance that it was okay to answer.

Jenny flushed a little. "Yes, I have."

"Really? And how did that work out for you?"

"Objection! Relevance?" Dean bellowed.

The judge frowned in thought. "I'll allow it. Continue, Mr. Campbell."

_Campbell? Why does that name sound so familiar?_

Jenny bit the inside of her cheek. "Um, well, it was supposed to help with dry skin. I used it and it worked for a while. But then a few days later, I had this horrible pain in my foot. I thought it might have just been something I did in the day. Now, I'm not so sure." Dean didn't miss the minute smirk on the defence's face after that statement.

_Don't get too cocky now, Campbell. This is far from over._

* * *

Recess was called ten minutes ago. Bobby and Dean were talking with their clients in a room that was provided for them. Dean seemed all over the place at the moment, so Bobby suggested he take a breather. Bobby was also concerned that newbie was psyching the guy out.

Dean took the advice and vacated the building to the smoking area. He needed to relax with a cigarette. That man was sort of getting to him, so to speak. He was clever and charming, much like Dean was himself. There was something about him people were attracted to. It might be his nice guy act. That explained it better than anything else.

"Oh, hey," the man murmured, coming in to view.

Dean shrugged. "What's up?"

The guy shook his head. "Nothing. Why are you out here?" He pressed.

"No reason. You?" The small talk started to piss him off, but Dean would put up with it for now.

"Needed some air. It's stuffy. Your name's Dean, right? Dean Winchester? Son of John and Helen?" Dean's face couldn't stop the look of surprise at the familiar information. How did this man know so much about him?

"Someone did their research. Sorry, I didn't have time in my busy life to stalk the opposing team." To Dean's surprise, the brunet snickered slightly, taking a step forward, a sign he felt more comfortable.

"My name's Sam, by the way. Sam Campbell. It's good to know your stuff when entering a courtroom. But I've known about you for a while. A few of my classmates kind of have it bad for you." Sam grinned cheekily, nestling his hands in his pockets.

Dean peered over his shoulder. "Have it bad for me? Like what? They're attracted to me?" This certainly was an interesting development.

"Oh, yeah. Ever since that time when you stopped a guy from attacking the judge singlehandedly, you've become a regular heartthrob around the university. But don't let it go to your head. The pretty girls are all too stubborn to admit they like you, so it's the average girls that declare their undying love for you to everyone."

"Why are you telling me this?" Dean frowned. He didn't like the thought that ugly chicks were thinking about him every night. To each their own and all that bull crap, but he had standards.

He checked his watch quickly and peered at the floor. "You jealous that even in your university, I'm getting all the attention, Sammy?" Something in Sam's eyes flared and his lips twisted into a weird expression.

"No one calls me Sammy."

Sam stumbled back, one hand on his forehead and the other on his hip. "Sorry, I have to get back inside. It was nice chatting to you, Dean." Just like that, the tall man burrowed in to the courthouse, without even a backwards glance at the dumbstruck blond.

_Well, that was weird. Guess the guy can't take a joke. He's all right, though, if a bit misguided._

Dean finished his cigarette and crushed it into the gravel before re-entering the courthouse and locating his room. There was only five minutes left of recess and he had to come up with something fast, if his team hadn't already.

"Dean, thank fuck you're back. We've got nothing," Bobby said truthfully, looking at all the sour faces in the room. They really had nothing to go on. While Dean was having a smoke, they tried brainstorming. They even had someone go talk to the defence and see what their plan was. They were very careful, though, in anything they said.

"Dammit. Okay, we need to get the mother on the stand. See if she knows anything about Matt's activity throughout the day. There has to be something else causing these side effects. Go to the defence and find her number – Sam might know it." After submitting his orders, Dean fell into a chair and scanned through the pages, searching for a sure-fire way to bring this victory home.

Bobby sighed as he left the room, taking one last look at the boy that was like a second son to him, and ambled down the hallway to the defence room. He knocked on the door twice, and was greeted by Sam, who had shifty eyes the second he saw a member of the prosecution team.

"Can I help you?" Sam said politely, albeit bitingly.

"Take it easy, Son, just wanted to get the number of Matt's mother. We have a few questions for her, is all," Bobby relayed easily, eyeing the man in front of him wearily.

Sam glanced over his shoulder and then back. "Matt's mother isn't on the witness list. He didn't want her to get involved. I don't have her number."

Bobby went to speak, but Sam cut him off. "Listen, Mr. Singer, I don't have a lot of time left to speak to my client, so if you wouldn't mind?" He took the hint immediately, apologising for getting in the way as the door was closed in his face. While Bobby didn't appreciate being ignored, he could tell that Sam was one good lawyer, from the looks of things.

Feeling like a failure, Bobby reported back to Dean, who instantly became riled up by Sam's attitude. "That son of a bitch! He's got spunk. I'll give him that. This isn't going to stop me, though."

Dean snatched a piece of paper from the side of the table and surveyed it. "Get me a phone, Bobby. I have to make a quick call to Dad. I may have found something!" he grinned brilliantly, thinking of the defence attorney's face when he sees what he has in store for him.

* * *

_How did this even happen?_

Sam growled in frustration and threw his pen at the wall. It bounced off and bobbled on the carpet. He had been so sure that he could win this case. Then, out of nowhere, that blond asshole caught him off guard. He immediately fumbled, with no idea what to say to that and the case was over in an instant, it seemed.

He's never frozen before during a trial. Somehow, and he had no idea how, that jackass managed to get a video recording of Matt confessing to ignoring the warnings on the box. Apparently, Dean had someone on the inside, as it was submitted by a college student – a student that knew Matt. The poor bastard had confided in whoever the recorder was, and got stabbed in the back, all the same. All Matt wanted was pain and suffering money to afford an operation to fix his face. Sam really wanted to win for him.

The man sighed, dropping his head in his hands. He failed to notice the door opening behind him and a figure stepping in. He also failed to register a hand on his shoulder, until he was shaken out of his stupor.

"What's up with you?" Dean inquired, thoroughly confused.

Sam brushed his hand off his shoulder. "Nothing. I'm fine. Please leave?" His head steadied, and his shoulders loosened slightly, trying to appear confident and not crushed emotionally.

Dean frowned. "Don't let that you lost beat you up, kid. Really, you still did a good job," he murmured, embarrassed to admit he had been really struggling in the beginning to think of a way to get one over on this guy.

"I'm not a kid, Dean. Just drop it, though, okay? I don't want to talk about this. Especially not with you." Sam turned his head away from the nosey blond and sighed. A part of him appreciated the effort this stranger was making, but it wasn't necessary.

"Look, man, just come for a drink or something?" Dean pressed, taking a step towards the guy.

Sam's shoulders tensed once again and Dean backtracked. "One drink won't hurt you, Sam. I'll get the first round if you like? It was a little sneaky what I did – I mean I always have a backup when I'm about to lose…" He trailed off, feeling like he cheated somehow.

"I understand. In your position, if I had the means to do so, I probably would have done the same thing." It was odd how they were still talking, when just a few minutes ago, they were head to head in a battle to win for their client. Sam has never experienced something like this before. He's lost, on occasion, and he mentally beat himself up for it all the time. This, however, was different. Never before has the opposing team offered to buy him a drink.

Sam rolled his shoulders back and felt the tension leaving him. He was calmer all of a sudden. Maybe the fact Dean appeared so casual about all this soothed him in a way. "But, really, I'm not much of a drinker. You should go drink with your team. I have some stuff to sort through here before I head back anyway," he lied. There was nothing left for him to do. He actually wanted to down a few shots of whiskey. It didn't take much for him to get drunk, so he was a cheap night out.

Dean shook his head from side to side. "Nah, I don't believe that. Come on, Sam, just one? If you still feel uncomfortable afterwards, you can leave. No problem, 'kay?" Dean didn't quite understand why he was pushing this so hard. Somewhere, he felt as though Sam would be an interesting guy to hang out with. This could just be his curiosity getting the best of him.

Releasing a final exasperated breath, Sam relented. "Okay. Fine. One drink, Dean."

A grin broke out on his face before he could stop himself. "Fantastic. Let's go!" he ordered, walking briskly to the door.

Sam pressed his lips together in a tight smile. He wasn't even sure why he had accepted so easily. People have asked him out for drinks before, and he's turned them down every time. Usually, they don't resist when he says no, so that is the end of it. This guy, however, persisted and broke through him somehow.

* * *

_This is weird._

"Ahh!" Dean slammed the glass down, feeling refreshed after that trial. Sam watched him order another drink from the bar. They got here about half an hour ago and Sam still hadn't finished his drink. Dean was on his third now. Usually, he drank a lot faster, however he was trying to slow down a bit, just in case Sam wanted another one after that was finished.

They had spoken some, learnt something about each other. They weren't much for talking to begin with. Neither of them were that willing to let information slip. Opening up wasn't the usual thing for guys anyway. Typically, men spoke about sports and what a pain in the ass their wives could be. As far as Dean knew, Sam didn't have a wife, and he certainly didn't. He enjoyed sports, but Sam appeared as though he wasn't the type.

"How long have you been a lawyer?" Dean asked abruptly.

Sam couldn't help feeling taken aback by the brash inquiry. He almost spilt his drink down his suit. "Um, for about three years now. You?"

"Six years," he answered curtly, handing a few dollars to the lady at the bar for the drink, accompanied by a meaningful wink. Sam witnessed the girl blush and hid a smile behind his glass.

"Seems like you're quite the ladies man," Sam observed, peering at the woman suggestively.

Dean smirked into his beer. "Sure am. The ladies love me. But don't worry, Sam, there's enough of me to go around!" he joked, puffing out his chest and displaying a seductive grin. Sam almost coughed up his drink, as he laughed at the face Dean pulled.

"If that's how you seduce people, I want nothing to do with it!" he was almost crying. It took a lot of concentration to even get those words out.

Dean played the defeated guy that gets turned down at the bar and scratched the back of his head. "Oh, Sam, I'm offended. All I want is for you to want me!" he muttered, his tone gravelly and laced with promise of a good time.

Sam went red in the face and almost doubled over his chair.

"Is he okay?" the lady at the bar questioned, wondering if the poor sap needed to be escorted out.

Dean turned to her with an impish grin. "He's okay. I'm just that hysterical that he's dying of laughter."

"Shut up!" Sam gritted out through a laugh, trying to steady himself.

"Admit it, Sam, I'm just that hot!" Dean winked saucily and stroked Sam's cheek, leading him into another fit of laughter.

Sam couldn't remember the last time he ever laughed this much. It was really nice. There was zero tension in him now. He felt great, poised, and best of all, relaxed, even though his chest was hurting from the amount he was heaving.

"Okay, can you stop now?" Sam almost begged.

He steadied himself on his chair and drank some more of his beer, a loud noise escaping him as he swallowed. "Maybe you're in the wrong profession, Dean. For a moment there, I thought you were serious!" Sam flushed, unable to help himself. It did feel real when Dean rubbed his cheek. Some part of him enjoyed it. Then again, human contact was something people craved, no matter what the sex.

"I take a lot of pride in what I do," Dean admitted, changing the atmosphere. "But it is fun to embarrass people, especially people like you who try to keep their guard up through it!" There was glee in his tone as he explained his reasoning. Dean liked to mess with people – plain and simple. Sam was now one of those people.

"Maybe I should feel privileged?"

"Maybe you should, yeah. I mean, let's face it, I am delightful."

Sam slapped his shoulder and allowed a small smile. "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean replied immediately, grinning.

This was going to be a good friendship.

* * *

_Notes:_

_So, um, yeah! This just a work in progress. I have no idea how far it will go; how many chapters there will be, and all that jazz. It's fun to write, though. I really enjoyed writing the banter between these two, and I hope it felt natural when you read it! :D_


	2. No Admittance

_Can This Be Justified? _

o0kaymawn0o

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**Chapter Summary: **

**Dean's persuasive, even over the phone.**

* * *

_Notes:_

_If you don't like Top!Dean!, this story probably isn't for you... So, yeah, just putting that out there. For those of you who do, great! Just, if you like both, please don't ask me to switch it up. DS is my preference. :)_

* * *

_**No Admittance:**_

Dean had really enjoyed last night at the bar with Sam. The guy was a good laugh, once he got going and loosened up a bit. It was a shame Sam left so early, but Dean didn't exactly complain, as straight after Sam left, the lady bartender was all over him. She must have thought something was going on between him and Sam, until the taller man exited. Dean didn't really care if that's what she thought at the time. To be honest, he hadn't been all that interested in her. She was chatty and her flirting methods were centuries old, but she got his motor running – that's all that mattered to the blond.

He was still naked under the covers. She was, too. A part of him hoped for morning sex, but the thought of her breath brought a sickening feeling to his stomach, and he mentally said he'd pass on that.

She stirred a little, the covers leaving his side. He frowned at that, not appreciating his blanket being arbitrarily snatched from his person. His right hip was exposed to the small breeze creeping in through the jarred window. He had half a mind to play a song on his phone and pretend it was an alarm, but he left it.

As nothing in his room was worth worrying over, he jumped out of bed, a hot shower in mind. He swore that if she joined him, he'd kick her out of the house naked! Showering was Dean's time. Never in his life has he showered with a bedroom partner. It's never felt right to him – showering with someone else. Shower time was down time, in his book.

He walked over the mass of clothes on the floor and open the door to his en-suite bathroom. Being a lawyer had some good perks. Especially if you worked for a big-league law firm, and you happened to be newspaper famous for your job. Dean smirked as he slid back the walk-in shower screen, edging over the step and immediately pressing the button to activate the water.

Should he wait a few hours, and after they've cleaned up and brushed their teeth, try for another round? Or should he leave her a note to leave before he gets back? Maybe that's too brash. Hm. For all he knew, she could be an excellent thief disguised as a bar wench. His judge of character was good, but for now, he wouldn't leave his humble abode in the hands of some lay.

The water felt warm against his skin, loosening his pours to snuff out the dirt trapped in there. Dean started singing to himself, as he grabbed some lynx chocolate from the shower rack, popping the cap up and squirting a generous amount on his right hand, singing the lyrics toMetalica: Nothing Else Matters. His voice reverberated around the small space, making his starchy vocals sound better than they were – he only sang when he was in the shower for that very reason.

Scrubbing the gel all over his body, his muscles flexing on contact, Dean's ears pricked when the familiar sound of his door opening registered. He sighed and moved away from the showers raise.

"Are you in there, Dean?" the bar lady asked, her footsteps drawing nearer.

Dean glared a hole through the glass. "Obviously," he replied sarcastically, stepping back into the downpour.

"Can I join you?" She was going for seduction, however it wasn't her best skill.

"No. Have some breakfast and leave if you want. Shower time is my time."

She paused for a moment, appearing as though she was going to protest. Then, her shoulders sagged and her lower lip curled. "Fine, weirdo. You have Cheerios?"

A careless chuckle escaped him. "Cheerios? Seriously?" He made a what-the-fuck face, as he started lathering shampoo in his hair.

"Yeah…" The lady didn't understand his humour. What was wrong with Cheerios?

Dean deadpanned. "I have some Lucky Charms and that's it."

For a while, it seemed like she was going to say something, but at her silence, Dean made a decision for her. "Look, there's no need for this conversation. Eat breakfast, don't eat breakfast. Makes no difference to me. Just get out of my house when you're done, lady." His tone was completely serious and the girl wasn't sure what to think. Dean had been so charming the night before. Guess she just expected he'd be the same in the morning. Then again, he had downed a few that night.

"Whatever, asshole. I'll grab my clothes and leave," she gritted.

Her words did nothing to deter the rinsing of his hair. "Uh-huh. Okay, sweetheart, have a nice day." Dean almost dismissed her with a hand, but thought better of it. He heard her leave his room and smirked. He had to get ready and head to work.

* * *

Bobby approached Dean once he entered the workplace, immediately assuming he had one too many last night and hooked up with some random girl. He didn't even need to ask Dean for confirmation, as he knew the boy well enough. That wasn't the important thing at this moment in time, however.

"Dean, I heard you had a drink with that defense attorney last night?" he relayed what he was told by a member of the staff, who had been at the same bar, while Dean and Sam were there, and had bore witness to Sam laughing his butt off at something Dean said.

"Yeah, he seems like a cool enough guy," Dean muttered, moving through the busy halls to get to his office. If he remembered correctly, he had a client scheduled to be here in the next half an hour, and he had to go over a few things before that.

Bobby pressed the issue at hand, though. "It's not like you to go gallivanting with the opposing team, Dean," he retorted, following after the younger man. Dean's body language didn't change in the slightest. He saw no problem with tying one on with Sam. They went against each other in the case. It's now over, so there's no heat between them. Dean's natural instinct told him that he could have a good time with Sam, and he proved himself right that night. Sure, Sam didn't stay out as long as Dean would have liked, but they bantered a bit. Sam seemed to enjoy his company; vice-versa.

"He's not the opposing team anymore, Bobby. The case is over. We can do what we want." He brushed Bobby's confused look off and entered his office, throwing his briefcase on his desk, going for the locks. Bobby insisted that he think about what he was doing, reminding him that Sam was good, clever, and dedicated to his job, that if they were to go head to head once again, Dean's emotions may get the best of him, and he won't resort to his usual method if things go down south.

Dean rubbed a hand down his face. "Look, Bobby, I went for a drink with this guy. I didn't give him the secrets to my talent in the courtroom. My job comes first, so stop with this interrogation, okay?" Dean snapped with finality, swiping a file from his briefcase, almost daring his cohort to continue this discussion.

After an awkward pause, Bobby gave in. "Just don't do anything rash that could jeopardize the firm, you idjit!" Dean snorted at the southern way Bobby said 'idiot', earning him a punch to the arm. He didn't even rub the area, just made a face, which said it hurt a little. "I'll leave you alone now. Remember you have an appointment with-"

Dean cut him off. "Yeah, I know, Bobby, Miss Carlson. She wants her son back."

The older man nodded affirmatively and left Dean's office, leaving the door open behind him, so his colleague couldn't slack off. If everyone could hear him, he had less chance to drift away from his work. That's how Bobby Singer saw it, anyway.

Another surprise visitor graced his room a few minutes later. His father strutted in like he owned the place – which he did, but that wasn't the point.

John Winchester gave his sons office a once over and offered a nod of acceptance for its state. "Do you think you could have won that case yesterday without your backup, Dean?" John asked, genuinely interested to hear what his son had to say.

Dean focused on the papers in front of him, barely meeting his father's eyes. "No, sir. At least, I don't think so." His tone was filled with uncertainty. He honestly wasn't sure how it would have turned out if he didn't use his father's pick me up. "The guy I was up against was smart. I guess I panicked when I asked for your help, Dad. I'm sorry," he mumbled, acting as the obedient son, even if he hated every second of it.

"Well, I'm glad it helped. You won – that's all that matters. Your client will be here in ten minutes, so make sure you are fully prepared, Dean." With that, John left the office without a second glance. Dean deflated into his chair and groaned. His Dad could be such a dick sometimes. He treated him like a fucking soldier, when he was a lawyer, and a bloody good one at that! He kept up his father's legacy – everyone knew he was John Winchester's son, just from his impressive profile.

"Son of a bitch!" he bellowed, slamming his fists on the table. Some staff members turned in his direction. He glared at them and they went back to work. Dean really had no time for his Dad's bullshit right now. He had a client to tend to.

What Bobby said earlier clouded his mind a little, though. Was it really a problem for him to make friends with other lawyers? He didn't think so. The blond could do what he damn well pleased, when he damn well wanted to. Bobby, and exclusively, his father wasn't going to order around and dictate who Dean could be friends with. No, sir!

"Hi, um, Mr. Winchester?" a timid voice inquired from the door.

Dean lifted his head and smiled reassuringly at his client. The women was wearing very informal clothes – jeans and a self-designed shirt, with some ugg-boots. Dean would never understand fashion, not even if he lived to be three-thousand.

"Take a seat, please," Dean gestured to the open seat and waited for her to accept the offer. She did so after a short pause, throwing her dark hair behind her shoulders as she sat down. "So, Miss Carlson, you're going up against your ex-boyfriend for custody of Jeremy, correct?" The lady nodded, idly twiddling her thumbs atop her knees.

Sensing the tension, Dean relaxed his shoulders and his whole body, giving off a free vibe that Miss Carlson would hopefully attune to. It seemed to work, as her fidgeting discontinued. "I want my son back, sir. Please? If there's anything you can do to help me—I have the money! I can pay you a lot. I just- Sir, I want my son back!" Dean felt touched by her words. She was genuinely pining for the retrieval of her son. It was horrible to see a mother broken by a dickhead of a boyfriend.

Dean left his chair and advanced to the women's side. He took her hand in his and gently padded his thumb over her knuckles. She was soothed by the gesture and she smiled up at him. "Don't you worry, Miss Carlson, I'll make certain your son is back to you in no time," he released her hand and grabbed a piece of paper off his desk. After checking it was the right one, he passed it to her. Her eyes scanned the page quickly and she signed where stated immediately – not an ounce of hesitation.

The lawyer checked it over then placed it back on his desk. He tracked back to his seat and resumed it, adjusting the pile of books in front of him. "Before I can do anything, I need you to tell me anything you can that may help you in your case. For example, anything your ex-boyfriend might do, or has done in the past that may hurt his chances as a father?" Once Dean asked the question, Miss Carlson was off, explaining anything and everything that her ex-boyfriend has done over the past few years of Jeremy's life. Dean couldn't help feeling a sense of hate for the man by the end of it. What kind of a human being beats their four year old son?

"Lisa, if you have anything to support this statement, please get it to me as fast as you can. It may just bring this case home for us, okay?" She understood completely, informing the lawyer of the videos she made without her ex-boyfriends consent, via: hidden cameras in the room, installed by one of her friends, who knew about that type of thing. Dean mentioned this person may have to be a witness, if they saw what was on the videos. Lisa confirmed that her friend has seen them, and they would stand as a witness for her.

For a fleeting moment, Dean wondered what Sam was up to, as he scribbled down some notes on his pad. This trial was going to be won so easily, he'd blink and it'd be over.

* * *

"Hey, Sam!" a girl with long, blond hair greeted, as she noticed the tall senior on the bench, just outside the café. He was reading a book calledMiller's Crossing. The girl had no idea what the book was about, as she was too busy reading law books most of the time. How Sam found time to be top of his class and pleasure read, she would never know.

Sam looked up from his book and offered a small smile "Oh, hey, Jessica, what's up?" he replied, snapping his book shut and shoving it into his book bag. Jessica took a seat next to him, grabbing her laptop from its nest. She opened the lid and started browsing for something on the internet. When she found what she had been looking for, she forced it in to Sam's view. His eyes widened in surprise. "No way… I made the newspaper? How?" he muttered, scanning the page repeatedly.

"Not sure. But you did. Who's the guy in the picture with you?" she asked, curious.

For a moment, Sam wasn't sure himself, as paper-print was usually black and white. He focused his eyes, and once it hit him, he almost grinned, but stopped himself. "Oh, that's Dean, the guy on the opposite team. He was cool. You should know him, Jessica. All the girls talk about him around here," Sam joked, searching for any sign of a blush on the blondes face.

She shrugged, clearly not that bothered and closed her laptop. "Yeah, he's not really my type, Sam," she rebuked, getting up off the bench. After straightening her bag, she waved good-bye ad strode towards the building.

Sam stared after her, dazed by her actions. Every girl in this freaking university was head over heels for that big shot lawyer, while the local heartthrob, Jessica Moore, didn't seem interested at all. What a turn around.

Sighing, Sam re-acquired his book from his bag and opened it back up. Just as he was about to pick up where he left off, his phone rang. He frowned thoughtfully, as he pulled the device from his pocket. He looked at the caller ID and didn't recognise the number, as it didn't belong to a name he knew.

Pushing his scepticism aside, he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear, answering with a small, "Hello?"

"Sam?" the other end replied inquisitively.

The aforementioned looked on in puzzlement. "Yes, this is Sam. Who is this?" Curiosity was eating away at him now, as he patiently awaited the missed out details.

"It's Dean! Just wanted to know if you were doing anything later? After this case, I'm off to the bar for a few, and wondered if you wanted to tagalong like last time?" There was a hint of hope in the man's voice, but Sam let it slide, opting to ponder the invitation for several moments.

"Um, well, I'm actually in school right now, Dean-"

Dean cut in midsentence, "This is later, Sam! Come on? We had a good laugh last night. And this time, we'll find you a hot babe to leave with! What do you say?" The blond listened to the sound of Sam's hesitant breathing and frowned, wondering if Sam was going to duck out of this one.

After a pregnant pause, Sam spoke again. "That's a tempting offer there, Dean, but don't you have anyone else to go with?" He felt bad for saying that, as if he were suggesting Dean had no friends, however, the guy was asking a complete stranger to go to the bar with him, so he had to be sure.

"No, of course not. You're the only one for me, Sam," Dean chuckled into the phone at his own words, enjoying the mirth. "Nah, I have friends, but they all have wives and all that bullshit. So, you in or out?"

Sam didn't respond.

"Don't make me kidnap you like Dracula, Mina!" Dean put on a Transylvanian accent to emphasise his point, and it brought a smile to Sam's face, accompanied by a few racks of his frame from laughing. "You laughed, sasquatch! Now you have to come."

"Sasquatch, huh? That's new."

Dean grinned. "Oh, come now, Sam, don't tell me no one's thought of that one?" He could barely contain himself on his side.

To his surprise, Sam said, "Nope, Dean. You are officially the first to say it out-loud. I'm not sure if I respect, or loathe that!" he mumbled, vaguely aware he's never been on the phone to someone for this long, and that he was leaning towards taking Dean up on his offer to go out.

"Well, someone had to say it," Dean countered, completely pleased with himself.

Sam went to reply, but Dean was too quick. "So, I'll pick you up around six? We'll drop my car at mine, then walk to the bar, 'kay?" Dean's voice sounded confident that he had won the man over. Sam knew he had, nevertheless, he didn't want to admit that fact.

"Okay," Sam finally uttered, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair.

He could almost hear Dean smirk in to the receiver. "Great. Just one thing, Sam."

"What's that?" Sam asked wearily.

"Scratch my car, and you'll end up dead in a ditch! See you at six," he warned, ending the call there.

Perplexed, Sam closed his phone and stared at the ground. Was Dean serious? Would he murder him if he scratched his damn car? He knew some guys were really iffy around their babies, but he's never heard someone sound so serious about a machine. Sam guessed he'd just have to be extra careful when it came to it.

_What does he want me to do, wear gloves the whole time and a bio-hazard suit?_

He shared a quiet chuckle with himself and returned to Miller's Crossing.

* * *

_Notes:_

_Got the second chapter out quicker than I thought I would! Hope you liked it!_


	3. New Found Information

_Can This Be Justified?_

o0kaymawn0o

* * *

**Chapter Summary: **

**Dean wins his the trial, they go out for drinks again, and Dean discovers Sam's not interested in girls. Then, just to be an asshole, he brings over his friend from kickboxing.**

* * *

_Notes:_

_If you don't like Top!Dean!, this story probably isn't for you... So, yeah, just putting that out there. For those of you who do, great! Just, if you like both, please don't ask me to switch it up. DS is my preference. :)_

* * *

_**New Found Information:**_

"Do you admit to that being your voice on the tape?" Dean refused to give the guy a chance to breathe, just went off his nervous stumble as confirmation, and so did the judge. "Do you admit to child abuse against your son, Jeremy? And do you admit that you are an unfit father for Jeremy, and he should be put in the care of his mother, who is a fit parent?" He was trying his best not to sock this guy in the mouth. Child abuse was a touchy subject for him – you don't hit your kids, it's that simple.

"Objection!" the defense bellowed, reaching for any semblance of hope the court would rule in their favor, as they would be out a lot of money if they didn't win this case.

The judge scowled when he went to stand, pinning him with a cold stare. "Over-ruled. Continue, Mr. Winchester," she gestured, keeping a sharp eye on the defense attorney. Dean could see that the man was shaking in his boots. While he understood that it was his job to sometimes help guilty people go free, he still despised it with all his being.

"Thank you, your honor. Now, Mr. Lawrence, answer the question."

Fear littered the man's words, as he opened his mouth to speak, softly; scared, "Yes. Th-That's me. I did those things." He entertained saying sorry at the end, but felt it would only hurt the girl he used to be in love with, and the son he didn't want to live without. He knew he wouldn't be able to see Jeremy before he was hauled to prison.

"Five minute recess, jury. Make your mind up on this one and we'll resume this then," the judge announced, banging her gavel.

Dean headed straight for his client, smiling softly as he approached her. "Okay, I think we have this one in the bag, Lisa. By the end of this, you will have your son again, I promise," he said, putting his arms around her when she hugged him. He eased her off shortly afterwards and mentioned that he had to make a quick call.

He ducked out of the room, slipping passed the throng of people, and slipped into his workspace in the courthouse. He punched in a recently used number and waited for them to pick up.

"Hello?" Sam answered the same way he did last time, still not certain of the number.

"It's me again. Shit, Sam, you should save my contact number, so you don't sound so surprised when I call, bitch," Dean held back a laugh on his end, anticipating a smart-ass retort from the university student.

"Sorry, I'll remember that next time, jerk," he mumbled, the sound of a page turning touching the receiver. "So, what's up? Is the trial over?" Sam questioned, genuinely interested.

Dean swallowed his anger at the implication and put on a smug face, "It will be in five minutes. Son of a bitch is a child beater. Fucking asshole deserves more than he's gonna get, that's for sure." He heard Sam falter on the other end. Child abuse must be one of his buttons as well. Then again, normal people were against it, so it wasn't that special.

"What a dick. How many years is he getting? But that all depends on the charges, doesn't it?"

"If this all goes well, he'll be in for around ten for the amount of abuse he did, but he may have the chance to be released on good behavior. That's the thing I hate most about the system. Anyway, Sam, where do you want me to pick you up?" Dean only just remembered he had to be back in in less than two minutes, so he'd have to keep this brief.

Sam paused for a moment and then told Dean that he could grab him from his university, followed by where aforementioned university was. Dean memorized the location and confirmed what time he'd be there. "All right, Sam, see you then." He ended the call and headed back to the courtroom. There were still some people filing in after their activities on their break, so it took several moments for Dean to find his way back to his seat next to Lisa.

The moment everyone was seated, the judge spoke. "All right, has the jury reached a verdict?" Her head turned to the jury foreman, who tipped his head and held up a piece of paper.

"We, the jury, find Mr. Lawrence guilty of all charges."

There were plenty of disgusted looks aimed at the man in question, and Dean thought to himself, _at least the fucker has the decency to look ashamed, even if he isn't. _The trial was over. Lawrence was going to prison now, and he would be there for the next ten years, hopefully. Lisa was thrilled with the outcome, giving Dean yet another hug, which lasted longer than the norm. If Dean wanted to, he could probably get Lisa back to her apartment and do a little celebrating. And, on most days, he would. For some reason, though, he didn't want to take a rain check with Sam.

He genuinely wanted to see the guy.

Lisa released him from her hold and thanked him sincerely, the air of her voice suggesting she could thank him in other ways. He told her she should go get her son, as they had a lot of catching up to do. She seemed to take the hint, telling him he was a good guy and he'll have a great wife one day. Dean couldn't help snorting, as that day would be far in the future when he was retired and lazy as fuck.

After being dismissed by the judge, Dean left the courthouse and located his '67 Chevy Impala. "Did you miss me, baby?" he asked, as he unlocked the door and hopped in. He felt the leather of the steering wheel and sighed breathily. He loved his car, and she loved him. Dean ignited the engine and revved, before barreling out of the driveway, on his way to Sam's university, a stupid grin on his face. For why, he didn't know.

* * *

Sam stood outside the universities gates, waiting for Dean to arrive. He still couldn't quite get over the fact that Dean wanted to hang out with him again. The night at the bar was nice, but Sam didn't stay for too long. He just wanted to go home and sleep it off, really. Sam hated to lose, but then so did a lot of people. It just got to him more than average when he failed at a trial.

Matt had told him he wasn't innocent, a little ways down the line of Sam putting a case together. Sam had been angry at first about the betrayal, but after Matt opened up to him about why he lied, Sam couldn't help feeling sorry for the guy, and wanting the win for him.

How many other ways could Dean have got one over on him in that courtroom? The blond did admit to using last resorts when he thought he was going to lose, which meant Sam definitely was on his radar for competitors. He did feel a sense of pride in himself that Dean was backed into a corner enough to use his methods for winning cases. A small grin blossomed on his face, disappearing immediately as a car pulled up to the curb.

The window rolled down, and a familiar head leaned out the window. "Hey, Sam! Get in. Remember what I said, though," he ordered, emphasizing his point with the drag of his thumbnail across his throat. Sam rolled his eyes and opened the passenger side door, silently asking where he should put his bag. Dean threw it to the back carefully, aware that the weight suggested a laptop might be in there.

Dean pressed into the accelerator and started towards his house. "Woo! Let's go! As I said earlier, we'll drop my baby off, then we can head straight to the bar," he rambled carelessly, turning his nose up at a mini-cooper. "What music do you like, Sammy?" The driver didn't miss the odd look Sam gave him at the nickname once again. "Come on, dude – chill. It's just a nickname. And don't pretend you don't like it, _Sammy," _Dean used his playfully seductive voice from the other night and Sam couldn't help being caught off guard by it.

"People don't call me Sammy. Not even my parents do," Sam reasoned, folding his arms over his chest and scratching the tip of his nose.

"Don't be such a sourpuss. Sammy's a good name. And you can't stop me from calling you it. You can hang up the phone or punch me in the face, I'll still find a way to say it to you," Dean could see that he'd thrown Sam for a loop with that analysis. He was right, after all. Sam couldn't control his words, or what he did, so if he wanted to tease the younger with the nickname Sammy, he will.

Sam deflated in his seat. "I guess you're right. That doesn't mean I have to like it," he quipped, watching the road ahead.

Grinning at his victory, Dean slapped Sam's knee. "I wouldn't dream of it." Dean slammed his foot down, just as his eyes picked up on a no speed limit sign, and he sky-rocketed down a few streets, eventually parking the car next to a motherfucker of a house. Sam's eyes widened at the venue, his mouth barely able to stay open.

Dean smirked smugly, pressing a button on a remote to open the iron gates. "Welcome to Casa Dean, Sammy, my boy!" He drove in through the gates, parking his car in his normal spot. It wasn't a mansion or anything – too much space in Dean's eyes, but it was still to be desired, in every sense of the word.

"Holy shit, Dean," Sam fumbled, mesmerized by the beauty of the house before him. Although it wasn't a mansion, it was huge, and the design was impeccable. A mixture of gold and white littered the walls, with decoration of pebbles sticking out of the exterior. The windows were square-shaped, eight on each frame. Sam's never seen something like this before.

He blanched when he saw the wrought iron doors. "Dude, did you design this yourself?" A part of him had to be sure Dean wasn't talented at everything.

The lawyer snorted beside him. "Fuck, no. This place belonged to my grandparents. If you can see, there are two doors. My Dad lives in the right one, and I, the left. Get it?" Dean smirked at Sam's flabbergasted expression, tugging his arm once to get him to follow.

"If you want, you can put your stuff inside?" Sam nodded his head, quickly grabbing his bag from the backseat and followed after Dean, appreciating the stone ornaments that plagued the front yard. _Dean's grandparents had taste. That's for sure. _"Hurry up, slowpoke," Dean hollered, unlocking the door to his house and stepping over the threshold, keeping the door ajar with his foot so Sam could enter.

Dean noticed Sam's appreciation of the house, and realized something in that moment. Sam was the only guy that has ever been in his house. The rest were his conquests, the girls he brought home and whatnot, but he's never actually allowed a guy in to his house. He must really see Sam as a potential lasting friend or something, to have already gone this far? He hadn't even thought about it when he said they'd have to stop by his first.

_Well, shit. Feels kinda nice for a dude to gawk at how fucking nice my house is._

"You can put your bag over there, if you want," he announced, pointing his finger to the destination.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks," Sam retorted, gently leaving his bag behind in the specified area. He stood there like a lemon for a few seconds, until Dean told him he was just going to change, as he'd look pretty dumb in a suit, when Sam was dressed like a bum. Sam didn't love that comment, even though he was sure the man was joking. He wasn't wearing anything that bad – just a checked shirt and some denim jeans, with a light-brown belt and biker boots.

Dean came back down several minutes later, the evidence he was a lawyer no longer palpable. He wore an open, blue long-sleeved shirt, rolled up to his elbows, dark blue jeans with rips at the knees, and a black vest-top, as well as combat boots. Dean adjusted his watch on his wrist as he traipsed down the stairs, snatching his jacket off the post as he went.

Once he picked his keys up off the hook, he motioned for Sam to follow, which he did, falling into step behind the smaller man.

* * *

"Hey, Dean," a guy greeted as Dean entered the bar, Sam a few feet behind him. Dean smiled in acknowledgement, maneuvering around a mix of people to get to the bar, glancing over his shoulder to check Sam was still with him.

A random person waved at Sam, so he put his hand up in response, wondering who the hell it was. He couldn't really make out a face, but he was sure it was a girl, from their dainty wrist.

Dean pressed a hand to his shoulder, getting the brunets attention, "What drink do you want?" He inquired, scanning the bar for potentials. Sam rolled his eyes at the obvious display, and told Dean he'd get his own drink. "Nah, I'm here now, Sammy, just say what you want?" Sam relented after a calculated pause, then asked for a beer and thanked the man.

"Yeah, can I get two beers, please?" He leaned over the bar, checking out the local barmaid as she bent down to grab a couple of glasses. He made an 'o' with his mouth and blew out some air, drawing Sam's eyes to what he was talking about. Sam gave her a once over, paying close attention to her short skirt. He cleared his throat and looked away, not ready to be caught staring.

The blond couldn't help laughing at his prudishness. "Calm down, man, they wouldn't be that short if they didn't want attention," he colored his point by staring long and hard at the woman's body. She noticed his eyes on her, and she winked over her shoulder at him.

"You've got with her before, right?" It almost wasn't a question.

Dean tapped the side of his nose and smirked, the familiar _for me to know _gesture telling him all he needed. The barmaid kept her eyes on Dean as she poured his beers. He was decent to her because he came here often, and didn't want any bad blood between them, so if she stayed the night at his, he tended to be respectful.

"Here you go, hon'," she said, placing the beers in front of him, her eyes briefly flickering over Sam, who offered a quick smile in return.

After the exchange, Dean took a large gulp, tipping his head in the view of where he wanted to sit. Sam made an _after you_ movement, and Dean headed for the table, giving one last look at the barmaid before he sat down, facing away from her. He wanted to test how many times Sam's eyes would deter to lady during their stay here.

"It's a good bar, isn't it?" Dean voiced, adjusting his watch again out of habit.

Sam bobbled his head a little, storing his hands in his jean-pockets. "Yeah, it's nice. The people seem friendly. This girl waved at me as I walked in, so yeah," he vocalized, reminded by the general question.

A smirk married the older man's face. "Oh, really? Who?" He regarded the people of the bar, searching for a girl that could be staring at Sam. He came up empty handed, as the area where they walked in was closed off by a crowd of people.

Dean flexed his hands and hooded his eyes. "I don't see anyone looking…" He trailed off, observing how Sam's pupils dilated. "Something wrong?" The dilation of pupils could mean fear or sexual desire, so Dean had to be sure.

"I'm fine," Sam lied. The barmaid kept staring at him with a look of want. If he were honest with himself, though, she didn't interest him._ Girls_ didn't interest him. Not really. Yeah, he had a girlfriend a few years ago, but he was never really that into it.

He entertained the idea of him being gay, but he's yet to put it to the test. Sure, he found that some guys looked good, however he wasn't frothing at the mouth when he was around them. Dean was a good looking guy. Sam had to admit this. And yet, he didn't feel anything other than friendship towards the guy, even if every girl in this bar was eyeing him up like a piece of meat.

_Guess I just don't see what they do. Those jokes he made yesterday were funny, and sometimes seemed serious, but they didn't affect me at all. _

Sam wasn't sure what to think of it. Dean was a cool guy, a good laugh and knew what he wanted. If he wanted Sam, he would have tried something by now, so Sam knew it was an act. Would Dean react differently if Sam mentioned girls didn't really interest him? He took a long hard look at the barmaid's skirt earlier, and sure she had a nice figure and curves – just nothing sparked within him.

"Don't lie. I saw your pupils dilate," Dean smirked, sure he had hit the nail on the head as Sam nearly choked on his drink.

"Really?" Sam was genuinely surprised – he didn't even realize.

Dean felt triumphant. "Yeah, you looked past me and your pupils dilated. Is it the barmaid? I bet it is!" he exclaimed, pouring his drink down his throat.

He was wrong. It wasn't the barmaid that caught his eye, but the guy sitting at the bar, with dark hair and defined facial features. Sam hadn't even realized he'd been staring until Dean pointed it out.

"No, of course not," Sam relayed honestly, proud of himself for not lying.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in thought. "Who, then, Sammy?" he inquired, staring up at the man as he took another sip of his beer, nearly finished.

Should he tell the truth? Would it hurt him if Dean felt uncomfortable at the new found information? Would he care if Dean wasn't okay with it? While Sam hadn't known Dean for that long, he still enjoyed the man's company. But, if he wasn't being honest with himself and everyone around him, he wouldn't be Sam Campbell.

"The guy at the bar," Sam said flatly, no hint of a joke in his tone.

To his surprise, Dean didn't even flinch. Well, he did pause on the spot, glass midway to his lips. He set it back down on the table and pointed between a guy at the bar and Sam, a stupid expression on his face.

"Oh, so you're gay? That's cool. You had me fooled there for a minute with the way you stared at Lauren!" he admitted, downing the rest of his drink. "Excuse me," he said, then positioned himself at the bar, ordering another for himself.

Sam couldn't believe what he just witnessed. Dean wasn't even phased by the new discovery. His eyes didn't shift, his body language never altered – he seemed completely at peace with it. Maybe this was why Sam felt different around Dean, why it was so easy for him to say yes when the man asked him to come for a drink?

_Wow. That was easier than I thought it was going to be. I don't even know if I'm gay, but Dean doesn't seem to care either way…_

He watched as Dean grabbed his drink from the bar. Dean noticed Sam staring at him and smiled, holding his drink up in the air. They shared a drink from across the room. Dean winked at him, and glanced over at a man at the bar suggestively.

_Oh, shit. No, don't you dare! _Sam yelled in his mind, as he mouthed the words to Dean in reality. Dean just waggled his eyebrows, ignoring the giant's silent pleas, moving himself to the side of the bar the handsome man was.

Sam slammed his head on the table, refusing to be any part of their exchange.

Several minutes later, Sam registered two people sitting down at the table and lifted his head. "Sam, this is Greg, I know him from kickboxing. Yeah, I forgot to mention I kickbox. Whatever. Why don't you introduce yourselves? I just need to take a leak; be right back, Sammy!" Sam death-glared him the second he left, cursing Dean to the pits of hell and back.

"So, you're Sam?" Greg questioned, admiring the color of Sam's eyes.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, hi." He was nervous. Greg was devilishly good looking. His hair was charcoal black, his eyes an intense green, lightly tanned skin – smooth looking lips. Sam's never kissed a guy before, but the image of him and Greg was appealing.

_I hate you, Dean Winchester. _

* * *

_Notes:_

_I think Dean would be fine if Sam was gay. He seems like a to each their own type of guy, anyway. Hope you liked it!_


	4. Impasse

_Can This Be Justified?_

o0kaymawn0o

* * *

**Chapter Summary: **

**Dean doesn't want to disturb Sam and Greg. Sam opens up a little after some drinks. He stays on Dean's couch. John questions Dean on his hanging out with the competition. He reveals his intentions.**

* * *

_Notes: _

_If you don't like Top!Dean!, this story probably isn't for you... So, yeah, just putting that out there. For those of you who do, great! Just, if you like both, please don't ask me to switch it up. DS is my preference. :)_

* * *

**_Impasse:_**

Dean couldn't contain his grin as he watched Sam's flushed face from just outside the toilets. Greg appeared cool and collected, not even remotely nervous. In the time Dean knew the guy, he's seen him chat up a few men, and successfully secure a date or a one night stand with them. He's even asked Dean out before. Dean had found it hilarious at the time, but declined the offer. He wasn't sure if he should just let the two of them talk, and chat with some of his friends from the firm, or if he should join them? His drink sat on the table, so he would have to approach them at some point. Dean didn't want to interrupt this humorous scenelet, so he was at an impasse.

This was his own fault really for being the jokester that he was. If he weren't so hilarious, he wouldn't have to make this decision. He did ask Sam to the bar for drinks, so he couldn't bail on the brunet. All he could do was join them and see what happens.

With his mind semi-made up, the blond shuffled over to the two of them, taking his seat and immediately drinking from his glass as he sat down. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" he inquired and set his glass back down, looking between the two.

Sam was the first to respond, his eyes almost begging Dean to listen. "No, it's fine. We were just talking about kickboxing." Before Dean had come over, Greg explained to Sam some of the styles that came with kickboxing, and why it was potentially one of the most violent forms of fighting out there.

"It's a dangerous fighting style," Greg added, eyeing Dean for a moment.

He seemed to think about it for a few seconds, then his head shook. "Kickboxing is, I guess, but it doesn't hold a candle to Muay Thai! That stuff is the shit!" he announced excitedly, his green eyes lighting up at the thought. For a long time, he's wanted to attend a class. Before he does that, though, he's been told to work on his stamina and conditioning before he can attempt the style, with the attitude of being serious about it in mind, at least.

Greg must not have agreed, as he was quick to explain the differences between the two martial arts, and how Muay Thai was a style for ruffians, as opposed to kickboxing, which required more skill. Both Dean and Sam looked at him incredulously, throwing reasons why Muay Thai required strength, precision, timing commitment, more so than kickboxing.

This debate went on for a few more minutes, with Greg losing his side of the argument. Anything he said, either the blond or the brunet had something to say against it, which he could not argue or even hope to disprove.

By the end of the exchange, Greg excused himself back to his seat, briefly saying how nice it was to meet Sam, coupled with a promising look.

Dean laughed hard. "Ha-ha! Whoa, Sam, I think he likes ya'!" he teased, enjoying the coloring of pale cheeks that followed. Sam death-glared the man, chugging some of his drink and almost slamming it down with a sighing breath.

Sam was embarrassed. He could almost see what Greg could have planned for him from that one look alone. All he could think was how he wasn't going to take part. He hasn't even kissed a dude yet. Sam was not ready. Not at all. His time would come when he'll be comfortable with the idea of going to those extremes. But for now, he was happy being innocent _in that respect. _

Annoyed by Dean's continuous teasing, Sam kicked him under the table. Dean's knee jerked at the same time and slammed into the wood, bringing a pained expression to himself, which Sam took a small deal of pleasure in.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean openly complained, his eyes accusing.

He only received a smile in reply. "Okay, tough guy, but you only get one of those," he warned, narrowing his eyes in anticipation for another kick. A foot didn't come after a minute, so he assumed that Sam was going to back off. Which he did. They sat there, the tension already dispersed, Sam talking about some of his passed cases – the ones he wished he didn't win.

"You've definitely got a few years on me of experience, but there was this one time that this serial-strangler got free. I won, yeah. But I let a criminal back out into the world. Luckily, there have been no reports of any killings since he was set free, but I can't help harboring hate for myself." Dean could see the sadness in Sam's eyes. He knew it all too well, as he's had to do the same thing before. He's seen that look in the mirror a few times after a big case. It wasn't something he liked to see on himself, or his friend.

"I just think about the families of those victims, and how scared and angry they are that he's still out there somewhere. I know if I were them, I'd hate the guy that assisted his release, you know?" A nod came from the older man. He would be exactly the same.

Dean slowly nursed his drink, his focus purely on Sam's voice; his inflections and the feelings that were so evident. "One was just a single mother as well. What's that kid going to do without a mum? His dad's some alcoholic in rehab, so he can't go and stay with him. And his grandparents live in Turkey. What, is he going to move to a new country just because of that asshole? Oh, wait, I'm an asshole, too."

There was an instinct telling him to give the sad bastard a hug. But Dean felt like Sam was the type of guy that grieved on his own. Like Dean. He hated to be pitied by others, and to feel like he was weak, or inferior to those around him. He understood Sam's position perfectly. Although he would have had to do the same thing because it's his job, he would have taken this far worse than the brunet. He had so much potential, and he was still in university. Sam will be an amazing lawyer someday.

"So, what about you, Dean?" Sam encouraged, ready to be distracted from his thoughts of that case. When Dean said he wasn't going to be sharing tonight, he snapped a reply, "Why not? I just shared my story. I want to hear yours, Dean!" How was it fair that he poured his heart out, but the blond wouldn't do the same? It's not fair. At all. Why wouldn't Dean share with him? Granted, they hardly knew each other. Fair is fair, though. Sam opened up. Dean should have to as well.

"You started with that story, Sam. I never said I was going to open up to you. I'm sorry. I really am, I'm just not that type of person," he retorted honestly, not the slightest bit peeved Sam was pushing him. He would be doing the same if the roles were reversed, so he can't possibly get mad at the guy for being upset, or disappointed.

Sam wanted to protest, to coax Dean into talking, but he let it slide. It wasn't his place to force people to do anything. Dean could keep his stories if he wanted to. Maybe one day he'd tell Sam. For now, though, they were just going to enjoy their night, as Dean intended.

* * *

Somehow they managed to stay at the bar until it closed, so they were both pleasantly drunk. Dean thought about ordering Sam a cab as he pressed his key into the lock and opened the door, stumbling out of the way for Sam to get in. Sam was worse off than he was, but not to the point where he had to drag his ass around the house.

Dean realized quickly this would be the first time a guy was staying at his house. He shrugged it off. It wasn't like he was going to fuck Sam, so he was fine with him crashing on the sofa. Kicking the door closed behind himself, Dean told Sam there's a couch in the living room that he could sleep on. Sam gave him a flimsy thumbs up and started for it, narrowly avoiding the corner table with a pricey looking ornament sat on top of it. Dean almost winced at the scene, his keys jingling in his hands as he played with them, indecisive about his next move. He wanted to have something to eat because he was fucking starving. He was also tired. And slightly horny, but he could sort that out himself.

"Sam, do you… want anything… to eat?" he rumbled out, heading for the kitchen. He heard no reply and assumed Sam passed out. He was still in the mood for food, though, so he'd just make a couple of sandwiches for himself.

After drinking a couple of glasses of water to sober up some, he rummaged around in his fridge, grabbing ham, cheese, a tomato, some lettuce and the butter. Quickly, he threw it all together, taking some time to cut up the tomato. He cut his sandwich in half and placed the two slices on a plate. He then exited his kitchen with the thought of his bed in mind when a knock came from the door.

There was only one person who could get near to his house to knock his door, so Dean didn't panic. It was just his dad. The reason? He had no idea. Dean would just have to find out. Keeping his plate in one hand, he opened the door with his other, stepping to the side.

John entered the house, momentarily examining any damage and was pleased when he found none. "Dean," he said in greeting.

"Sir," Dean replied easily.

"Have you been out tonight?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you bring a girl home?" John asked, looking around. It wasn't like his son to return home alone. He couldn't remember a time when Dean didn't burst through his door loud enough to rouse his father, with some giggling girl in toe.

Dean glanced towards his living room. "No, sir. My friend is crashing on my couch, though. He had one too many," he reasoned, anxious his father would go and wake Sam up.

"Where is he staying?"

"On the couch. _Like I just said," _he whispered the last part.

John peered at his son before walking into the living room and turning on the light. Sam was precariously strewn along the leather couch, his mouth wide open and his limbs all over the place. "Isn't that the defense attorney from that trial against _Kalu Pharmacy_?" he questioned, unimpressed with the etiquette the giant man possessed.

Dean explained how low Sam had appeared after that trial, and how he offered to buy his first drink. He said how they had gotten along quite well, that Sam had a lot of potential as a lawyer. He told his father he saw him as a friend, as well as a potential new employee once he graduated university.

John was inclined to agree with what his son said. Sam gave Dean trouble in that trial, and that was a rare thing in itself. _Winchester And Co_ was renowned for its exceptionally trained lawyers, with their ability to get out of a tight spot in a trial, even if it looks like they were going to lose from the beginning.

"Have you talked to him about this?"

They both snapped their eyes to Sam as he turned over with a mumble. "No, I haven't. I was going to wait until after he graduates."

John thought that risky.

"No, it'll be fine. I'm not gonna pressure him, dad, He can make his own choices." Dean sounded resolute.

While John didn't appreciate the tone, he admired Dean's determination. "You're getting soft, boy, but I'll trust your judgment. See you in the morning," he replied, and left Dean's house within the minute. Dean sat on the end of the couch by Sam's feet, tension leaving his shoulders. He started eating his sandwich, careful not to get crumbs all over the furniture.

* * *

_Notes:_

Just a short one this time! I didn't feel like it needed much. Greg may make another appearance. I'm not entirely sure if he works for what I have planned for Sam, though. ;)) Follows/favourites/reviews are appreciated. ;D

~Love, Kieran


	5. Always On My Mind

_Can This Be Justified? _

* * *

**Chapter Summary: **

**Morning after drinks. John meets Sam. The two lawyers find themselves unable to stop thinking about each other.**

* * *

**_Always On My Mind: _**

Sam woke up to the hangover from hell the next morning. He didn't remember much from the night at the bar. He barely recalled where he was, until the realization that this was definitely no his house and not his university dorm room dawned on him.

He crashed at Dean's!

Now he remembered! Dean had asked him if he wanted anything to eat, and Sam passed out on the sofa in an assortment of limbs. It wasn't graceful—far from it.

"Mornin', sleeping beauty," Dean greets from the other sofa, currently devouring his breakfast like he hadn't eaten in centuries. Sam assumed at that point he just had a big appetite.

"So, is this the part where you thank me for the sex and tell me my taxi's waiting outside?" he managed to joke through the church bells clanging in his head.

Dean laughed. "I don't thank my customers for the sex, Sam. I wait for them to give me my money, then they're on their way. So, off you go," he chuckles at his own humor, feeling comfortable enough to joke about things like that, even if the man was gay.

The younger man curses the lights streaming in through the windows. Dean doesn't apologize, continuing to eat his breakfast without a concerned glance in the poor saps direction. It was his own fault for drinking more than he could handle, and the lawyer refused reward that.

Instead, he'd laugh at the uni-students expense for as long as it gave him joy to do so.

Sam sat up and immediately groaned. How much did he have to drink last night? He must have drank more than Dean, as the asshole was fine—not showing any signs on a hangover.

It could be that he was used to it? Or maybe he has a secret he's not sharing? It's kind of embarrassing for the brunet, really. He's a uni-student, home of fraternity's and shit like that! Granted, he goes to a law school, but still! He should be able to hold his own against the more experienced lawyer!

He shook his head, clearing the fog manifesting in his mind. He probably had to get to school soon. A small part of him was worried that the older man would let him sleep in passed his lesson times! Sam couldn't handle that right now! He had papers to study for, and essays that he needed to get done by next week.

Why did that asshole have to be so convincing?

"I feel like you've seduced me," Sam mumbles, falling off the couch with a thud.

Dean stops mid chew, a portion of assorted vegetables and bread crushed up in his mouth. "I did? We didn't have sex, did we?" He grumbles, wiping a bit of food off the side of his face.

Sam stared long and hard at him. "Maybe I should have picked a different moment to make that joke? I don't mean in a sexual way, just I had papers to study for, and you managed to persuade me to go out with you for the night, so I missed out on studying time," he admitted, trying to burn that image from his mind.

Who talks with their mouth full these days, honestly?

Apparently, this man.

He finally took down his food and frowned. "You didn't have to say yes, but I wasn't going to let you say no in the first place. When I want something, I know how to get it," he informed confidently, zero hesitation in his tone.

Sam wanted to punch him for being so cocky, but he had said in the bar that he only got one of those before Dean started attacking back.

To be fair, he deserved that kick to the shin, and he'd like to think a part of him knows that. That was just wishful thinking, however.

"Dean," a new voice said from the door. Dean's posture shifted immediately, to one of wealth and prosperity. Sam figured at that point this man must be of high authority. But how the hell did he get in?

There had been a house next to Dean's when he saw the place for the first time yesterday. Who was it he said, again, if he did?

"Sir," Dean replies. The guy in the room must be his boss or something? Why would boss and employee live next door to each other, though? Sam found this a little odd, and he didn't really know what to say.

Apparently, he didn't have to say anything.

The new person in the room was all too happy to speak.

"You must be Sam, the lawyer from the _Kalu Pharmacy _trial?" The man in question nods his head nervously. This guy was intimidating, to say the least. He seemed like a big boss, even if he wasn't one.

"Dean told me that you've been spending time together. How's that for you? Don't talk, Dean. The man can speak for himself."

Dean slammed his mouth shut and pretended that he wasn't even there. Whoever the guy was, he had a dominant effect on the other lawyer.

"My name is John Winchester, head of _Winchester And Co. _You gave my boy quite some trouble in that trial. I hate to admit that I'm impressed."

Sam wasn't sure if he appreciated the backhanded compliment from this guy, but the way he was looking at him, like he was nothing more than a parasite, he had no choice other than to take it with a pinch of salt.

"Thank you," he mumbled in response, his mouth suddenly dry as the desert. He felt a look of sympathy from Dean on the side of his face. The poor bastard must go through this every single day.

It wasn't like the man was patronizing. He just had a huge presence in the room that made you want to throw up everything you ate the previous day. Sam wasn't sure if the amount he consumed last night held some part in that feeling.

"This is just a brief visit, only to see you for myself in person, really. How are you finding law school?" Sam managed to stammer a fine, then John asked him about what interested him the most about law. He said bringing those that deserve it to justice. "That's a good answer. Sometimes, you can't help if you're assigned a case to defend someone that has done something unspeakable."

Sam knew about that all too well. He really didn't need to hear it from this guy. He's heard of this man in class, how he made it out of next to nothing. His father did something completely different to him. The man had been a mechanic, but John Winchester wanted to have his own law firm. That was his life's ambition, and he achieved it.

John shared a look with Dean before announcing his departure. Sam watched as the tension in Dean's body literally left him the second the door closed. Clearly, whenever the blond was around his father, he temporarily forgot the ability to speak, and he lost his playfulness completely, to the point where Sam felt uncomfortable for him.

"Yeah, so that's my Dad."

"You call him sir?"

A nervous twitch came from the older man. "Yeah. I'm not allowed to address him any other way."

"I see."

An awkward air settled over the two friends for some time after the big presence in the room left. Dean reflected on how similar situations like this one have happened before, except all the other times it was his father meeting one of his hook-ups, which could be especially awkward for him. John would flirt with them as well, and Dean would never understand why.

"Did you want a lift back to your dorm?" He asked, breaking the uneasiness in the room for his own benefit more than Sam's. The other said that he could if it wasn't too much trouble and Dean proceeded to make a joke about how nothing was too much trouble for his boo, which earned him a delayed roll of the eyes from the younger man.

Half an hour later, Sam was on his own in his dorm room thinking about the night's events, as well as the ones that transpired under an hour ago. He used to hold a large amount of respect for John Winchester because of what he achieved, but after meeting him in person and seeing the way that he treats his own blood just left a bad taste in his mouth about the guy.

Sam would never be able to understand why Dean let his father treat him the way he does. He understood that they lived next door to each other, and it would be easier if Dean just didn't get on his bad side, however John was a lawyer, not a marine, so that sort relationship dynamic should not apply to the two Winchester's, if you asked him.

It wasn't his place to say anything on the matter so he wasn't going to. He wouldn't bring it up, and only talk about it if Dean wanted to. Sam was confident in his conclusion that his friend could not be happy with the way his father treats him.

Dean seemed like the type of friend that would get really pissed off if they found out something bad was happening to someone close to them, and tear apart the person that was causing them misery. He could be wrong, though he was seventy percent certain that he was right about this one. Dean, upon further observation, just didn't come across as someone that runs away from battle or confrontation.

Why does Dean let someone like his father get away with such shit then? Did he have a different way of raising him? Dean said that he has friends, but they're all married and have kids or something, so he didn't feel comfortable hanging out with them. Dean wasn't especially old, so Sam had to question his reasoning for such a thing. He thought Dean was younger when he met him, admittedly. He just didn't come across as in his thirties. It was a complete shock to the brunet.

He's not saying that he's right all the time about someone's age, but he's never been more wrong. If he didn't know any better, he could have pinned Dean to even his age. As far as Sam knew, Dean didn't use any products or get any work done, so it must all be natural.

Then again, some people were lucky.

For most of his life, Sam had been quite short. Then suddenly, through a month he just grew and grew. His mom would make jokes about the Green Giant sweetcorn that they would eat. He'd laugh for her because she rarely had moments where she attempted humor.

His dad wouldn't encourage her jokes. He could be a dick most of the time, actually.

Sam ran a hand down his face. He had to stop thinking about all of this now or it was going to give him a headache. Plus, he had so much that he could be getting done, and here he was thinking about Dean's situation, this, that and the next thing. He had to study for an exam that was coming up, but all his mind wanted to focus on was Dean's problems with his father and his own past.

_Study. You have a test. _

Sam read the text on his phone and almost smiled. _Almost. _Was Dean watching him with binoculars somewhere or something because he somehow knew that he was procrastinating. Maybe it's because he's been through the same stuff before, and he could predict what Sam might be up to right now?

At the bar, Dean had mentioned that his form of procrastinating was to hook up with some chick, though, so Sam couldn't really link it to the same deal, as he certainly was not hooking up with someone right now.

Work. He needed to work and research and prepare himself for this fucking exam!

It didn't help his situation that even the exams he didn't study for, he got top in the class, so…

But, no! That wasn't an excuse he was going to use so he could do something else. He didn't usually have things to do. He hardly hung out with anyone except Jess here. She was the only one he'd give the time of day for because she's a nice girl.

Now Dean wormed his way into his life and took up some thinking space. He considered ignoring Dean for a while, but he thought better of it. There wasn't really much point. Dean had his own problems, work and shit to deal with, so he wasn't going to be riding Sam's ass all damn day. The dude was busy.

_Stop stalking me._

He texted back, just to show that he had read it. Dean's reply was almost instant, a joke about wiretaps and surveillance cameras all around his room.

He replied saying that he just showed his ass to the camera, so he hoped that he got a nice view. The response was a very childish 'rofl', with an admittance he was jerking off to it now.

Sam laughed and dropped his phone to the side of him. That man was such a distraction. It was a nice distraction, though. They had a good time together when they were out and the conversation flowed nicely. There weren't many times when either of them weren't talking for long periods of time.

It was casual, fun even.

He really had to get some work done now, so he texted to leave him to do his work then call him up for phone sex. Dean messaged back saying he'd make Sam come so hard with just his words that he'd become mute for several weeks.

_You better have some good material then because I'm a classy gal. _

It was kind of nostalgic to Dean, this friendship he had going on with Sam. When he was in college, he had friends that he would make these jokes with all the time. As they all got older, it just didn't really happen. But they were really fun to joke about, so he kind of missed it. He knew that Sam was mature and probably didn't text like that with his friends often, but Dean started the whole comedy flirting situation, and Sam must have realized that he enjoyed it to a degree.

The guy could bring a smile to Dean's face, there was no doubting that.

"What the hell 're you smiling about?" Bobby Singer inquired, distracted by the expression and unable to focus on his clients report.

Dean's smile vanished. "Nothing really."

Bobby wasn't convinced. "Is it that Sam kid? What are you, his wife?"

"Fuck off, Bobby! He's my wife," he jested, mentally picturing Sam in a wedding dress. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing. It was a magnificently hilarious thought that he would save for later, when his superior wasn't being a nosy asshole.

"All right, Prince Charming, but you have work to do, so get a move on."

"Okay, Bobby."


	6. Offer of A Lifetime

_Can This Be Justified? _

* * *

**Chapter Summary: **

**Sam gets an offer that's hard to refuse. He reveals to Jess the truth, and Sam and Dean celebrate.**

* * *

It was finally the weekend! Sam aced all of his exams that week, taking the top of the leader-board once again. Dean had congratulated him and told him that he should just quit while he was ahead and join his firm as a joke.

Sam had no idea what he wanted to do after he finished. He knew that he wanted to be a lawyer. Where, however, he didn't have a clue.

Apparently, he didn't have to decide. When he opened up his emails, he saw a job offer from John Winchester himself. He called Dean immediately and interrogated him about the ordeal. Dean swore that he had nothing to do with it and that it was optional. Sam didn't have to join with the Winchester firm if he didn't want to.

The pay rate was amazing, though.

It would set him up with the type of house he'd always wanted.

As a bonus, he'd get to spend lots of time with Dean. Maybe even work a few cases. They were on the phone, discussing the email.

"I just don't know if I'm ready for this step yet, you know?"

Dean sighed on the other line. "I'm kinda pissed that he did this behind my back, but I can't lie and say that I don't agree you're ready. Face it, Sammy, you're top of your class and you've already got some experience under your belt. You said it yourself that your teachers were already recommending you to law firms," he revealed, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he cracked open a beer.

He heard Sam make a judgemental noise.

"It's the weekend, dude. I can drink early if I want. Don't worry, I won't drink to the point where I can't satisfy you, baby—I promise."

The brunet rolled his eyes.

"You wish you could satisfy me, Winchester."

"Oh, I can, Campbell."

They banter some more, until Dean reminded the younger man he was stalling this decision. Sam pursed his lips and sighed. He accepted the offer. Dean smirked on the other end, noting that he would let his father know first thing, or he could email him back.

Sam made a joke that he'd probably crap himself before he ever managed that, and the call was soon ended.

He dropped his phone on the desk. He couldn't believe it. It was official. He was a lawyer. In a few days time, he would be starting work at a real law firm, and he would have his own clients, paying him to help bring criminals to justice.

His life was going to change for the better. Selfishly, he really wanted to be put on some cases with Dean himself, so he could observe the Winchester's methods and take notes. Just because he wouldn't be a student anymore, doesn't mean he'd slack off.

He'd been given the opportunity to train under professionals. He would not let this go to his head. No, he refused to.

A knock came at his door and he granted permission for whoever it was to enter. Jess entered the room, taking a seat on the brunet's bed.

"Hey, Sam!" she chirped, pulling her laptop from her bag.

Sam had promised the other day that he would help her with one of her hobbies. It was this online game that she got stuck on a lot. Sam didn't play games like them himself, but he was pretty smart in general.

"Hey, Jess," he replied, offering the girl some chocolate from his draw. She declined, logging onto the game and selecting her current character.

"So, I have some news," he announced, observing the screen.

"What news?" she rebuked excitedly. Sam told her about the job offer and how he said yes. She slammed her laptop shut and gave him the biggest hug of his life. "That's incredible, Sam! I'm so happy for you!" The brunet could see that she wasn't lying. Alongside Dean, Jess was a huge supporter of Sam and his success.

They spoke about what his plan of action was. Was he going to just drop out, or was he going to finish the year? Sam would have liked to complete everything, but the sooner he started earning a living, the sooner he could make some of his dreams come true. Jess understood completely, admitting that she would be sad to see him go. Really sad.

Sam promised that he would come visit her, though. That he wasn't the type of guy that would abandon his friends just because of a job opportunity.

Jess gazed into the man's eyes. She took a chance, something she didn't feel she would be able to try again if she didn't now.

She kissed him.

The man's eyes flew open in shock. He leaned back, embarrassed. He forgot that Jess didn't know he was gay. Well, he still wasn't completely sure. That kiss did nothing to him, and Jess was on every guy's mind at school. So, the possibly had gone up.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, ashamed.

Sam tried to reassure her she wasn't the problem.

"What's the problem then, Sam?"

He clears his throat and lowers his voice. "I'm, uh, gay, Jess…"

The room fell silent for several minutes. Sam was nervous because Jess took her time processing the information. And then it was as if a light bulb went off in her head.

"So that's why you've never made a move on me?"

Sam was confused. He understood what she was implying, but he was confused that that was all she had to say about the matter.

"Um, yeah. I guess so."

Jess thanked him for telling her, admitting that she had a crush on him for a really long time, and it took him telling her he was going away for her to act on those feelings. She was glad that she did. Now she knows why Sam never tried anything. It wasn't because she wasn't a good enough person for him. It was because he was attracted to the same sex.

It raised some questions, too.

"Is that why you've been spending so much time lately with that lawyer?" she muttered, very interested in his answer. They were both hot, so why not? There was some disappointment in her eyes when Sam revealed that they were just good friends, and that it was actually Dean's firm he was going to be working for.

"You're going to be working with the Winchester's? Are you serious?"

Proud hadn't even began to describe what she had felt in that moment for her friend. That was one of the toughest law firms to get into in the whole world, and Sam was offered a job on the spot, without even having to go for an interview, and was emailed by the man that runs the company.

Sam certainly was moving up in the world.

She could believe it, though. He was an amazing student, and an amazing person. He deserved for good things to happen in his life. She just hoped that they would remain good friends, even if Sam wasn't going to be living on sight anymore.

After they finished discussing the plan of action, they finally got down to playing the game. She wouldn't be nearly as far as she was if she didn't have Sam. They would have to Skype or something and he could still help her.

It had become a tradition while they were there anyway.

* * *

"Sammy, over here," Dean called, giving the woman that was trying to chat him up a sign that he really wasn't interested in spending the night with her. Tonight was all about celebrating Sam's new step in life.

Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

"So, what did you want to do tonight?" Dean asked, adding that it was on him.

Sam pondered that thought for a few seconds. What did he want to do? There are so many things that he could do, instead of drinking. He liked to drink, don't get him wrong, but something different every once in a while kept things exciting.

Earlier that morning, he had read somewhere that a festival was on tonight. There's supposed to be lots of exotic food and shit going on of all kinds of variety. He even read that there'd be some guy playing with fire, and Sam liked the sound of that.

"Well, it's your night, Sammy! So, if you wanna go there, we will," he announced.

Truth be told, he'd been looking forward to this night since he got off the phone with the younger man. He was so happy that Sam accepted the job, yet still annoyed that his father hadn't trusted him enough to let him ease Sam into it.

This night wasn't about negativity, however.

It was about Sammy having a hell of a time.

"Okay, well the festival actually isn't too far from here. We could get there on foot in around ten minutes if you don't mind walking?"

Dean drove everywhere. But he knew he would be drinking tonight, so he decided against bringing his baby. He was fine with making the journey on foot. If it was one hundred miles away, of course he'd take the car option. Ten minutes on foot was nothing for him.

Besides, it wasn't like they wouldn't be able to talk to each other for the whole time. They always had something to say.

They left the bar. Sam mentioned that a lady was looking at the blond, who told him to keep moving and to not say a word. Sam teased him about types—ending up with a punch to the shoulder.

"I love it when you get rough, Dean," he joked, ignoring the slight pain in his shoulder. Dean clearly had no control when it came to his punches. Somehow, this didn't surprise the brunet.

"Keep it up then and I'll show you just what rough is," he purred, smirking when Sam flushed. Just because Sam's a guy, does not mean he wouldn't get weak at the knees by the right words said in the right tone.

Pushing the teasing aside for now, Sam mentioned that he told Jess about his sexuality. Dean was quick to ask how she took it, finding himself getting angry at the thought of her disowning Sam.

It cooled him down when the man revealed that she took it too well and admitted she had a crush on him. He also added that she thought Dean and Sam were together, which made the older man laugh hard.

"All girls assume that, if a gay guy actually hangs out with a guy," he reasoned, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

If he were gay, he probably would have tried something on Sam by now because in all honesty they would be good together. They had a good back and forth, decent looks, and attributes to both of their personalities that suited each other.

Dean was comfortable thinking about these things. Several years ago, he most likely would have thrown Sam aside at the drop of the hat. His father was never homophobic, but Dean wasn't around gay guys enough to know that they weren't harmless.

Things were different now. He'd had gay friends before Sam. Like Greg. They got along well—not as well as him and Sam, but Dean's never gotten along better with anyone.

Sam could've been called his best friend by that point.

"Did you talk to your dad about giving me the job without consulting you first?" Sam questioned, having been curious about the answer for a while now.

They had just been discussing the cases that were going on now with the Winchester's. Dean had felt it was safe for Sam to know those sorts of facts now that he was no longer the competition and he worked for them.

"Nah. It's his firm, after all. I can't tell him what to do," he informed, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. He offered one to Sam, but the man refused, asking how he could even smoke those things.

"Been through quite a bit of shit in my life, Sammy, and these things have somehow helped me through it, believe it or not."

Sam knew that he wasn't going to get any more than that. Dean wasn't suddenly going to tell him what shit he went through, and what kept him up at night if it did.

No. Dean wasn't that type of person. As he already said.

They were nearing the festival. Just another few blocks and they would be there. Dean was starving. Ever since Sam mentioned there was going to be food at this thing, his stomach roared to life—demanding to be fed.

Typically, Sam hadn't eaten much that day either. This worried the older man. Sam let too many things get to him and forgot to eat. That wasn't a good thing at all. Last week when Sam accompanied him to his date, the guy ordered nothing. Dean had offered to pay, and the girl he was with groaned about Sam getting more attention.

That date had not gone so well.

He had only invited the brunet because Sam had been at the restaurant at the time working on a paper. The girl had been really annoying and asked way too many questions, so he had found a distraction from her.

And what a distraction he turned out to be. He hadn't really done anything. Just studied the entire time. Dean could see why the kid had straight A's in all of his classes.

"We're here," Sam said with finality. There was also some glee to his tone. Dean guessed that he'd been looking forward to this more than he let on earlier.

Lots of displays cluttered the field. Dean saw so many different cultures, from French to Chinese. It had looked like a really good set up, and they must have put a lot of effort into the event.

"Let's go," the brunet uttered, taking off on a slow jog towards the first stand. Dean followed after him, happy that Sam was already having a good time.

The kid deserved it. He really did.

For hours, they went through all the stalls. They ate some food—mostly Dean had. Sam kind of picked at his, mentioning how foreign food didn't react well with his stomach. Dean talked as he declared he'd eat anything he couldn't. Sam had labelled him disgusting, more interested in the amateur magician not eleven feet away at the time.

The man had been performing card tricks to the feeble-minded public. Dean could see that Sam wanted the guy to mess up, so being the gentlemen that he truly was, he joined the crowd.

"Is this your card?"

The lady beamed, exclaiming that it really was her card.

"Left breast pocket. You wanna be a real magician, do that trick in your underwear," he stated, winking at Sam. The brunet hid a laugh behind his hand, gesturing they should probably run to a new stall before Houdini sawed them in half.

Dean agreed with the look, running after the younger man. None of his friends ever wanted to have fun. Sam worked hard, sure. But he still knew how to have a good time. Like he did. Yeah, he was in his thirties. That didn't stop him from experiencing the joys of life.

They found themselves at the next event—a man playing with fire. This had been what Sam really wanted to see the whole time he was here. His eyes stayed glued to the flamed sticks, focused on how the fire danced in the steady air.

Dean enjoyed the exchange, too. This guy hadn't been a phony like the other one. He appreciated his craft, and that is why he was good at it.

"Whoa!" Sam exclaimed, following the twirl of the beautiful fire. This guy had skill. Real skill. And he was very good at what he did. Sam could respect that. He had no personal interest in fire, but the vision of a person bending that fire to their very own will appealed to him in all senses of the word.

Once the show was over, Dean suggested they head to the German part, as he was sure they'd have lots to drink. He didn't like stereotyping, but the legends were true.

Sam agreed, and they found it after a while. Dean challenged Sam to down his drink. The crowd encouraged him and he managed it after a while, liking the applause he got because of that.

Dean chugged his easily, receiving slightly more praise because he did it faster.

They were set up with another round. Sam nursed it this time, trying to accept the large amount he had just consumed.

"Not bad for a college boy, Sammy!"


End file.
